Safety Catch
by Healthy Insanity
Summary: River makes excuses to be around Jayne so she can seduce him. The crew is oblivious. So is Jayne. Oh, and Wash may not be as dead as is generally believed. Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own. Reviews appreciated
1. Chapter 9

So I've been getting a couple messages about leaving you guys hanging.

I know what it's like to be frustrated by a story with no ending. Some of these are stories that _I've_ written.

The truth is that I'm no longer in love with this story the way I used to be.

The trouble comes from having read stories where you can tell - can actually _pinpoint_ the paragraph where an author has gone from a labor of love to just a labor. It loses energy. It becomes duller. It isn't as good as the first parts you've read and it fills you with disappointment. Often you click away to read something better (or more consistent). I don't want that to happen with this story.

There may come a time when I once more fall in passion with these characters, but it may be a long time coming.

So for now I'm leaving it open ended. Feel free to imagine whatever mischief River plays on Jayne to get him to succumb to her crazy but feminine wiles. I'm sorry that you won't get (for now) to see the way in which I had planned Wash's return, and Zoe's pregnancy adventures.

I'm leaving this here as notice to past and future readers.

If you haven't read this yet, you are now being warned that this is an unfinished work. IF you read it and are unsatisfied with the 'ending', that's on you. Anyone who's already read it, you have my sincerest apologies and no promises. It'd probably be best if you just unfollowed the story. Perhaps at some later date you will stumble upon the finished version.

Also, I'm moving to A03, so I prolly won't be on here much anymore anyway.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just play with them...that came out wrong...

Title: Safety Catch

Pairing(s): River/Jayne, Zoe/Wash (sort of Zoe/OFC), Kaylee/Simon, Mal/Inara. Is that it? Did I miss anyone?

Rating: Meh, it's pretty mild. I'd say whatever passes for NC:17 on here

Warnings: It gets very sci-fi near the middle.

Also, I blame the Alliance for a lot.

Also, I may not have written the characters absolutely perfectly.

I do try, though, and I feel I deserve points.

Summary: River makes excuses to seduce Jayne. The crew is completely oblivious. So is Jayne. Oh, and Wash may not be as dead as he seems.

Here we go.

Jayne was pretty sure he knew when it happened.

A fight like that – with so many hurtin' and not all of 'em comin' back – even his brain (an organ he rarely used for anything outside of the job, survival, money or guns) wasn't stubborn enough to go through all that without his perception of things shifting a little.

Things were quieter on the ship those next few weeks. The loss of their pilot was felt deeply, and not just by the first mate. People stumbled over his name and conversations stuttered into a silence so awkward sometimes he'd just up and leave the room to get away from it. It made his skin crawl, like he was surrounded by ghosts and other dead things. Every time they said his name he'd flash back to that gorram planet and he'd go lift weights or clean his guns.

He'd taken to cleaning his guns in the cargo bay instead of the kitchen table (the only flat surface large enough to lay out his collection with any sort of sense 'r reason), cause Zoe was always in there – cookin', _cleanin'_, tryin' a heal the hole lef' in her chest as big as the one the Reavers lef' in Wash.

"They all have holes now," said a quiet voice, startling out of his silent, routine, meditative gun cleaning. He looked at her and felt the automatic urge to snap at her choke in his throat. She didn' mean t' be s' moonbrained, he told himself, which didn't stop him from being so bothered by her stealthy approach and crazy nonsense. "Collective consciousness and visual memory give emotional metaphors weight and context to the community. Holes. They opened up in all of them at the same time," she continued, looking at him as though willing him to understand.

The trouble was, he did. Not about Collective whatevers or emotional meta-whatsits (that was all a load of corespoke bung), but the meaning of what she said...They all had holes in their souls roughly the size and shape of the one in their pilot's corpse. He scowled and went back to cleaning Vera. The reason he cleaned his guns was to _not_ think about things like that.

"Ain't you got somethin' else to do?" he snapped, and she settled cross legged in front of him, sitting with her back straight and graceful and looking at him with open black eyes.

"No," she replied and he sighed.

"Well..." he stopped, almost biting his tongue on a phrase he'd have used on any other small child that was bothering him. '_Why don't you go home and tell your momma she wants you'_. 'Cept she weren't no child and she couldn't go home. "Well where's your gorram brother? Ain't he supposed to be watchin' you t' make sure you don' go crazy?" he snapped lamely. She seemed not to notice his stumble.

"The Doctor is currently engaged in an in-depth physical evaluation of the Mechanic and will be occupied for several hours," she replied.

He almost choked on his own spit.

"Kaylee and the Doc finally jumped in the sack? Som'bitch, I owe Wash five cre—"

He cut himself off at an unexpected pang of hurt, and he stared at River for a long moment before slowly turning his eyes back to the weapon and reassembling her now cleaned parts. It had been such a natural thought, even with the memory of...even with it still fresh in his head, and the pain had been unexpected. He wasn't supposed to be that affected by it. He didn't even barely get along with the guy. Sure he was a hell of a pilot, but...

"Their neural pathways became accustomed to his sensory input patterns. Its absence is noticeable. Expectations of predictable events are not met. Emotional imbalances are formed," said the girl, tilting her head as though she were sussing out some sort of puzzle. Jayne said nothing as his teeth began to grind and his hands clenched on the rifle parts in his hands. He tried not to think about anything but the gun as he did this. It just wouldn't do to have Vera missing any vital parts. Suddenly River looked at him, her eyes seeming to clear of insanity before filling with sadness. "I miss him too," she told him.

He snapped.

"Gorramit, ya moon-brained crazy girl, I ain' in the mood for yer ruttin' psycho-babble. I don' miss nobody, an' he wouldn' even be dead in the firs' place iffen you hadn' come aboard Serenity an' screwed it all up for everybody!" he shouted at her, standing with his hands clenching so tightly to Vera that his knuckles were white and bloodless. She stared up at him with wide eyes and he stared back at her, breathing heavy and shaking in the ringing silence that settled in the wake of his outburst.

"Jayne."

The two of them flinched, turning to see Mal and Zoe standing in the door leading to the mess hall. Jayne's jaw tightened at the dark looks on their faces, knowing that – through no fault of his own – he was once more in the dog house. Normally he would have kept talking, digging himself deeper, but his eyes landed on Zoe's face and how it seemed set on anger more out of a need to keep from breaking down into tears, and he bit his words back with a frustrated growl.

"I think it's best you cleaned your guns somewhere a little less public from now on," Mal told him, and he let his indignation show on his face, mouth dropping open as he pointed at their resident feng le psychic.

"She started it, Mal!" he protested, and Mal's scowl grew deeper.

"Well I'm finishing it!" he snapped. "Jayne," he added, when the mercenary opened his mouth to defend his right to clean his guns where he chose to. It was a tone he'd used too many times to be ignored. 'I pay you ten percent to do what I say, why are we still having this conversation?' Cursing and in a black mood, the hired gun gathered his weapons and left, hurling creative invective behind him as he went.

They watched him go, and then looked at River, who was staring at the place his guns used to be. She reached out to touch one of the empty spots, tracing the edge of an imaginary barrel and stock.

"River," Mal said, his tone much more restrained, and she looked up at him with wary curiosity. "I think it's best you go find somethin' else to do than bother our mercenary," he told her, and she looked down for a second as though contemplating her options before getting up and walking away. Nothing was said for a moment after she was gone and then Mal looked at Zoe, who turned her head away and tried to pull her composure back into its usual state.

There was nothing he could say that would be the least bit of comfort to her right now, and he knew it, so he just put a hand on her shoulder to let her know that he was there to be supportive and left her to herself. She left too, heading to the room she might as well have shared with her husband's ghost and locking the door before crawling into the bed and hugging the pillow. She never noticed that she'd walked right past River, who hadn't really left the cargo bay, only hidden there, lost in contemplation. Hiding was good and she had the best places – places nobody looked in. Places that were quiet and perfect for thinking her own thoughts.

She hadn't meant to upset him, only to let him know that she was thinking similar thoughts. His reactions had been discordant and unparallel to fore-reasoned expectations. People connect. It was an observation that had repeated itself. People connect. Simon and Kaylee connected. Captain and Inara connected almost every night in her shuttle – cacophonic whispers of emotions undealt with (-_Staywithme-don'tneedtobe-whycan'twejust-)_ – Zoe and Wash(_bright blue eyes that follow her still_) connected once. The interruption was temporary, she was certain, but variables were in play and the solution of the equation was constantly in flux. She'd considered her choices – they were finite – and chosen to connect with him. His rejection was confusing – his choices were just as few as hers.

She had been watching him for some time – before Miranda, for sure – watching him and pondering connections. She watched him in the cargo bay, lifting steady increments in metric measurements of mass a pre-determined number of times at even intervals. His muscles bunched and strained repetitiously until perspiration formed along his skin, collecting at the base of his throat, dampening his hair and clothes.

Her eyes slid closed as that visual presented itself, and felt her skin grow warm, blood pulsing through her as her heart pounded. She squirmed a little at the sudden presence of natural moisture between her legs, blushing as she opened her eyes and tried to quantify her emotional state. Clinically she knew exactly but reality was more fluid and her time at the Academy had muddled things, mixing her reality with the reality of others and leaving her lost as to whether these feelings and reactions were hers or someone else's. Her mind was so crowded, but...no, this was different.

Established emotional reactions did not lay dormant unless affected by severe physical or situational events. Her arrival caused a ripple, but it was almost immediately counteracted by outside forces – emotional upheaval subsided for traditional interactions. This was new. This was hers. She held onto the chaotic threads of desire for the man who had almost returned her to the ones who had made her this way and sheltered them from the rest of the threads that took space in a mind that wasn't theirs, protecting them as she contemplated the development.

Thoughts and emotions swirled around the tiny threads she guarded, twining around them as the moments passed, creating newer, stronger threads. Wants and needs collided, creating supernovas of untested theories and intangible possibilities until she finally stood and left the cargo bay.

She needed information.


	3. Chapter 2

"I think maybe it's time we found ourselves a new Pilot," Mal said at dinner once, in the silence, and they all looked at him before most of them turned their heads and glanced quickly away from Zoe. For her part, Zoe was gracious enough not to react to their shame. She and the captain had already discussed the need for a Pilot that wasn't going to have an episode of crazy at the helm of a ship that may kill them all. She was prepared for their pity.

"Already?" Kaylee asked in a small voice. "It's...so soon," she added lamely, eyes filling up with tears. Mal sighed as Simon put his hand over Kaylee's on the table and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"We all miss Wash, Li'l Kaylee, some more than others, but we gotta keep flyin', and River's an excellent stand-in, but we need a full time pilot," he told them. They glanced around at each other, but the argument made too much sense to argue with. "We'll be on Persephone in a day's time. Plenty of pilots there, lookin for new jobs. We'll take a few interviews, find the best one we can," he told them, but even he looked doubtful as to the quality of their replacement. "Hopefully it'll be enough," he added. There was a moment of awkward silence before the meal resumed, void – for once – of any playful banter that might be had under different circumstances.

River ignored them all, her subtle, inconspicuous gaze fixed on Jayne, who wasn't looking at anyone.

* * *

"She regrets her wrongs."

Jayne cursed, looking up from his gun magazine and glaring at the wisp of a girl that had snuck into his room.

"What in the ruttin hell do y' think yer doin' down here?" he demanded. She said nothing for a moment and then held out a hand. In it was a small spring, and he blinked at it for a moment before glancing at Vera.

"Too angry. Didn't notice. Left without it," she told him, curling in on herself a little as she held it out. He took it from her and scowled, taking Vera apart to figure out where he'd left it out. She watched him do this with abstract fascination, until he looked up and scowled.

"Well, go on. You done what you came here for," he snapped at her, but it didn't have the same heat as before. She could've left the spring in the cargo bay to get stepped on and mangled, but she hadn't, and now Vera wouldn't jam on him the next time she got fired.

"She regrets her wrongs," River repeated, and he arched a large, furry eyebrow at her. "Made him think on things he didn't want to think on. Made him loud. Closed off the bay from him. She regrets this," she said. He snorted dismissively.

"Yeah, well, if it weren't you, it'd have been somethin' else," he muttered, sliding the spring into place and reassembling the gun. She watched him. "In case you ain't caught up on it, Mal an' I don' exactly see eye t' eye," he added bitterly. When she didn't say anything, he looked up, rolling his eyes at the way she was staring at his gun. "Don' you go gettin' ideas in that crazy head o' yours. No touching guns, remember?" he snapped, and she looked away, scratching her arms.

She remembered. He looked her over and then scowled.

"Well, go on and git. I ain' sayin' thanks cause it were your fault I lost the spring in the first place," he told her. She looked at him for a moment, eyes somewhat searching before she suddenly nodded sagely and turned, climbing the ladder out of his bunk. He watched her go, somewhat perturbed. "And _stay out_," he called after her.

* * *

Persephone was just as crowded and noisy as Simon remembered it, and he looked at Kaylee as she fussed with River's disguise – a pair of old coveralls, goggles and a hair bandana. River looked like every female grease-monkey on the planet, but she still moved with the grace of a dancer, even in those clunky boots, and Simon sighed again as he looked out at the orange colored world.

They hadn't seen a wanted poster on the Cortex in some time, but that didn't mean they weren't still wanted, because the repeal of their bounty had not been circulated either. But River wanted off the boat for a while, and that meant a disguise. Luckily she was going with Inara, who had no clients and was more than willing to watch after the young woman for a while.

Meanwhile, Mal and Zoe were looking grim as they prepared to set out to the nearest hang-out for pilots both legal and not. Simon had opted to stay on the ship and keep the medical bay open for visitors, while Jayne made unacknowledged excuses about a bar with his name on it. Kaylee had made cheerfully transparent comments about Serenity's engines while shooting sideways glances at Simon.

"Are you sure that it's okay for her to be out?" Simon asked Inara as the Companion passed, dressed as elegantly as usual. She smiled at him.

"You shouldn't worry so much, Simon. I can look after her for a few hours. We're not here on a job, and no one that we know of is looking for her," she assured him. He sighed again.

"That we know of," he repeated. She gave him an apologetic smile and went off to make sure that River didn't take off her boots while Simon went off towards the medical bay. Nobody who was looking missed the glance he shot in Kaylee's direction. Mal watched her blush as she offered a stammering excuse to leave the cargo bay and then looked at Zoe, who was almost expressionless as she checked her holsters, both the visible and the discreet.

"You wearin' that extra armor?" he asked, and she nodded without looking at him. He hesitated and glanced back towards the medical bay. "Zoe," he started, but she lifted her head.

"Yes, Cap'n," she replied, with an expression that blocked off all avenues of question. The ship's captain sighed, but nodded, shrugging his jacket into place and looking at the others.

"Alright, we'll be back in a while, hopefully with a new pilot. Don't blow up my ship," he said as the two of them set off into the teeming masses of Persephone's docks. Inara and River waved.

* * *

"Can't believe it," muttered Mal as he and Zoe got back to Firefly class transport that they called home. Zoe looked just as deadpanned as ever, parking the mule and grabbing what supplies they'd managed to gather after failing to find a suitable stick jockey for their mobile home.

"No luck, huh?" asked Kaylee, looking caught between disappointment and relief. He shook his head and started muttering in Mandarin about intelligence and parental backgrounds.

"Everyone back yet?" he asked, when he'd finished his tirade, and she nodded.

"Jayne's in his bunk, sleepin off some foul brew, Inara's back with River, and Simon's in his med-bay, which just leaves you two," she said sadly. He nodded.

"Right, well...I guess we best be on our way, then," he said, walking over to the door controls.

"Wait!" squawked an out of breath voice, and they all jolted in surprised, turning warily towards the source of the noise to see a young blonde woman in a familiar looking Hawaiian print shirt pushing her way through the crowd towards them. Finally she made it through and jogged up the ramp before doubling over and sucking in huge lungfuls of air while she braced herself on her knees. "Oh god...wow (huff puff)...almost didn't make it," she wheezed, while they stared, and Zoe shared a glance with Mal, who shrugged. Both of them had their hands on their weapons, but she seemed not to notice as she finally caught her breath and looked at all of them. They all looked rather expectant, but she just turned to Serenity's first mate, who arched an eyebrow. "Are you Zoe Washburn?" she asked, and the woman in question seemed to clench her jaw at the mention of her husband's last name.

"Who's askin?" she replied, and the young blond grinned in response, patting herself before reaching into the pocket of the gaudy over shirt she was wearing. She pulled out a picture that was a little bent at the edges and glanced at it before smiling smugly as she held it out to the cautious war hero.

"Your sister in law," she answered, much to the surprise of everyone on the ship. Kaylee gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, but Zoe just took the picture, which was of her and Wash's wedding. Everyone was there except the Preacher, the Doc and his sis. Even Jayne had been in the wedding as one of the groomsmen. She looked at the girl on the ramp, who smiled before seeming to remember something. "Oh, uh, I'm the one holding the basket," she said, and Zoe looked down at the picture.

Sure enough, there was a blonde girl who looked about sixteen or so holding a basket, looking proud as punch that her brother was finally married off. Zoe thought back to that happy day and furrowed her brows, surprised and confused.

"Calinthia?"

"That's me. I was almost on the other side of town when I heard you guys were in the area. It's like fate or somethin'. Awesome. So I turned 'round and ran back as fast as I could, hopin' I'd make it in time. Good thing I left when I did, looks like you were about to take off without me," she said with a breathless laugh. Mal suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Did you need a lift somewhere?" he asked, hoping her answer would be a relieved yes, but she just snorted.

"No, but you need a pilot," she told him. There was an instant tenseness among them, and Mal let his eyes cut over to Zoe briefly, but Zoe was still assessing Wash's sister. "It's what I heard you were here for. Which can only mean that he's dead," she added, increasing the tension in the others, but strangely not in Zoe, who she turned to. "Unless I'm grossly overestimating his love for you, which – y'know – I'm not," she finished. Zoe stared at her for a while before looking at Mal. Mal seemed surprised by the 'it's up to you, sir' look she was giving him. It was such a normal expression on her face, and her expressions had been few and far between lately. The Captain blinked at his first mate before turning to the younger Washburn.

"Can you even fly?" he asked her, and she snorted.

"Who exactly do you think Hoban learned it from before flight school ruined him?" she asked in reply, striking a pose of attitude. Mal blinked.

"Wash learned to fly from a teenager?" he asked, and she burst out laughing, a sound that seemed to startle most of them – it wasn't something they'd heard for weeks. "What?"

"Sir, Wash only had older sisters," Zoe told him absently, and Calinthia nodded when he turned to look her over.

"Shen sheng de gao wan," he exclaimed, drawing another snicker from Wash's sister. "But Wash was...thirty somethin' or other," he protested, and she shrugged, nodding.

"Which makes me thirty-somethin' or other plus about a year," she confirmed, before waving off his look of confusion. "Don' ask me, Cap, I'm just as confounded as you are, but I ain' fixin to look that particular gift horse in the mouth just yet," she told him. "Anyway, you got room for one more?"

There was a second where it looked like Mal was going to turn her away, but that was quickly replaced by resignation, and he glanced at Zoe again before shaking his head.

"Why not? From the sounds of it, you got the best credentials a crew could ask for," he replied, fighting a smile when the petit pilot let out a whoop of victory.

The others arrived in the cargo bay shortly after, come to investigate the whoop, like as anything, and Cal was friendly with all of them, makin' jokes and such.

When she saw River, no one really noticed the way her smile seemed a little less jovial and a little more nervous. No one really noticed the way she seemed to tense or how cautious she was when she offered to shake River's hand. River didn't take her hand. The teen psychic was too busy staring speculatively at the man no one else could see. The man with the wide blue eyes. The man who met her gaze with anxious trepidation and urgently motioned for her not to tell anyone that she could see him.

"There's no hole in you," River told the girl enigmatically, her eyes too fathomless to read before she turned without another word and left. They glanced between each other and tried to understand what the girl might have meant. Only Jayne refrained from speculation, watching River go and then turning curious eyes to Calinthia Washburn.

* * *

Looking around her bunk, Cal felt a sort of relief that getting aboard the ship had been so simple. She hadn't expected either the Cap or Zoe to be so nice to her, even taking into consideration her relationship to their former pilot.

_Don't be so quick to judge, 'Lin. Full of twist and cul de sacs is this crew_, said the voice in her head, and she sighed, nodding.

_Maybe I'll stick around for a bit and suss 'em out,_ she thought, and the voice gave a sound that was half permission, half warning.

_Just don't wait too long. Remember, you've got a job to do,_ it said, and she rolled her eyes. Of course she remembered. How could she forget?


	4. Chapter 3

Cal adjusted quickly to life aboard Serenity – especially the flight controls. The ease and seeming familiarity with which she piloted their boat had given the Captain and the first mate pause before they chalked it up to being Wash's sister. When she wasn't in the cockpit, she was in the galley, going through their often pitiful supply of rations and other food-stuffs. On her third night as their new pilot, she offered to cook and somehow managed to make plum dumplings (or damn close to it) with _real sauce_, along with a few other side dishes that disappeared quickly into the stomachs of the crew and brought smiles of satisfaction to their faces. Even Zoe had leaned back in her chair, paying her sister-in-law a compliment with a slight, upward turn of the lips.

Her first real test as their pilot came shortly afterwards.

"We should be on Tulsa in about three hours," she told Mal when he walked into the cockpit, and he nodded.

"Good. We have a bit of business there, it should keep us busy for a time. Point of reference, how fast can you have this ship ready should we meet with unfriendliness?" he asked her, and she snorted, a smile stealing over her face.

"You mean if the law should find out you were here for some dishonestness?" she asked him, the smile widening into a grin at his stillness. "Relax, Captain, Wash has regaled me with tales of your less than legal exploits. I'm not squeamish," she told him, and he nodded, relaxing somewhat.

"Good," he said again, before looking at her. "How fast?"

"Cold engines to flight?" she asked, tilting her head and taking a breath as she considered it. "maybe thirty seconds?" she supposed. Mal hummed speculatively.

"See if you can shave a few seconds off of that," he told her. Cal nodded.

"Do my best, Cap'n," she promised, watching him go.

_Faster than thirty seconds? Not sure I can do that,_ she thought to herself and the voice she shared a brain with. It gave a slightly superior laugh.

_It's not as hard as it sounds. I'll run you through it._

_

* * *

_

Jayne replayed the fight that had happened down on the planet over and over in his head – that and the many other times when their unpredictable psychic had done unexpected violence – as he watched her play jacks with Kaylee, seemingly unconcerned by the lives she'd ended back on that planet (At least they got paid, part of him was thinking). He wondered if she even remembered what she done in terms of reality, or if it was like a dream; wondered if it was really her that done it, or if that part of her was someone else altogether. He'd watched the look of surprise on Mal's face when she'd been so calm about it and thought back to the other day, when they'd taken her out to a shooting range to find out exactly what she could do. She hadn't hit a single target, something that had surprised them all and apparently frustrated the hell out of the girl more than anyone.

He'd been curious about that, but at the time he'd just chalked it up to her finally finding something she wasn't so gorram good at. Kaylee had been the most confused person there. Their new Wash had made a joke. But Jayne could remember every time he'd seen her pick up a weapon in defense of herself or the crew, and couldn't ever recall her missing, 'cept on purpose.

Jayne had been cataloguing every detail he could recall about her from the moment she'd been discovered up to just after the Big Damn Mission (as he called it), and he felt a sort of jolt when a thought popped into his head. An image – two, really – side by side, and he was comparing components of the two images. He straightened from his contemplative lean against the catwalk railing and blinked for a moment before letting out a low hum of speculation.

No one looked up at him, or paid him any mind when he left, assuming that he was off to do Jayne-like things and that they wanted very little to do with that.

Except for River, who regarded his exit with curiosity before returning to trouncing Kaylee at jacks.

She found him later sitting on a crate in the cargo bay after everyone else had gone to sleep. He'd figured she would – she had that habit – so when he saw her his customary snap was nowhere to be found. Instead he just gave her a long, assessing look.

Nope. She still looked crazy as a kettle o' kittens.

Cute though.

"Do you know what it was they done to you?" he asked her, and she blinked, obviously not expecting that question. _So much for being a gorram reader_. "Cause I do," he added. This drew a small cry of inarticulate astonishment and disbelief to her throat, as well as an expression of desperate curiosity – both for the information and where or from whom he had obtained it. "Took me a while to suss it out – 'course it didn' help none I kep' bein' distracted with all your crazy," he said. She looked torn between exasperation and guilt at having kept him from this important discovery. "You're a weapon," he told her. "A gun."

She went completely still, staring at him as bees stirred up in her brain and stung it, making it swell beyond the capacity for her cranial plates to contain it. She waited for her head to explode as Jayne continued.

"Way I figure it, they designed you t' be triggered whenever they wanted, but when they didn't, they put a safety catch in your head, made it so that you could only 'shoot' when they say." He frowned at the way she'd gone all quiet on him, and how pale she was gettin'. "You listenin'?"

"They made the girl a gun," she whispered, looking down at the floor. He felt a twinge of discomfort at her apparent shock and pushed it aside.

"Seems to me," he replied. "Can' believe the others ain' figured it by now, but I 'spect they will soon enough, an' you better be able t' control it by then, girlie," he told her, and she looked at him, uncomprehending for a moment.

"A gun with no control can kill on accident," she guessed, and he shrugged.

"Cap'll think twice about keepin' ya on board, sure as shootin'," he told her. Her eyes saddened momentarily at the thought of being put off the ship before sharpening as they narrowed on him.

"He would be happier with her gone," she said, almost accusingly. He rolled his eyes.

"If that were the case, I'da already been t' see the Cap'n," he shot back, and her accusing stare devolved into uncertain confusion. "I come ta grips with ya, girlie, an' you're useful on jobs. Can' be useful iffen you ain' here, can ya?" he asked, and she shook her head slightly, still uncertain. "Right. So. I teach you to shoot without bein' triggered, you get t' stay, be useful on jobs, an' I can sleep better at night, knowin' you ain' about t' gut us all in our sleep," he said. She looked doubtful.

"No touching guns," she said, reciting Mal's rule to Jayne, who snorted.

"The Captain's a _chī ái shān yáng shú jiáo shàng gāo yā xiàn_, and he don' know how t' handle anythin' like ya. Iffen 'e did, you'da been out on jobs with us from the start," he scoffed, and she blinked at him, but blushed softly, as though he had just paid her a compliment. He noted the blush and felt a twinge of something he couldn't identify. It made him uneasy and he shifted his weight, ignoring it as he folded his arms and glanced around the cargo bay. "Right. I figger nex' planet we set on should have a place t' practice won' be noticed by the crew. We'll meet then," he told her, before walking out of the cargo bay. She watched him go and smiled softly to herself.

* * *

Jayne watched her shoot and frowned thoughtfully. She was gettin' better, and of course when she was under attack her skills were damn near unparalleled, but what if she needed to make a shot with no danger? What if the success of a mission relied solely on her skills at a shooting range, or a marksman competition?

She stopped after a moment, looking at the target past her gun for a moment before sighing and lowering the gun.

"_Zhè xiàng shì mĕng_," she complained, and he sighed.

"No, now gorramit, it ain't stupid," he replied, as he had several times before. "Learnin' t' shoot when ya choose to is half of controllin' yer own trigger. The other half is learnin' not t' shoot when ya _don'_ choose to. I gotta teach ya the one before you c'n learn the other. I ain' got a burnin' desire t' get my man-parts damaged if ya see another ruttin' commercial, dong ma?" he growled with a disguised shudder. "Now, concentrate, like I been tellin' ya," he told her. She sighed, looking back at the targets.

He watched her fumble with the handgun for a while and then held out the rifle when she ran out of bullets. She traded him the small pistol and he set it aside before looking at her. She was staring at the rifle as though she'd never seen it before. He'd seen her use guns, knives (his chest gave a nostalgic twinge), swords – hell, once when they'd been penned in by a couple modified freighters, he'd even seen her use the ship as a weapon. The kind of cluelessness that had her brows furrowing and her lips forming into a little pout was unsettling, but then he remembered the reason and sighed.

"Here," he said, getting up and coming over to her. She watched him move around behind her, turning her head to track him as he put his hands over hers and guided her. "You put one hand here – keeps the gun steady cause it's front-heavy, and gives you the option of pumpin' the grenade launcher. An' don' get cute, there ain' no grenades in there," he warned her, but she didn't answer, looking at where his hand was covering hers on the gun. Heat was curling from his hand to hers

–_and up her arms and down her chest and_ –

Then he moved it, holding the top of the rifle as he repositioned her other arm. The butt of the gun fit into her shoulder firmly, and he wrapped her hand around the stock, keeping her finger over the trigger guard and not on the trigger itself

–_and his chest was against her back, light but there, and her knees fought against a wobble as her heart gave a stutter and– _

"Always keep the butt of the gun against your shoulder, otherwise the recoil's gonna bust it. Ain' much to ya, girlie – a bust shoulder'd be a fair spot o' trouble, not to mention outin' us t' the Cap'n," he said, and she blushed, but nodded her understanding. He looked her over a little and sighed. "Put your shoulders back a little, stand up straight," he ordered, placing a hand on her lower back while his other pulled her shoulder into a more appropriate rifle stance. She stumbled a little, but recovered and tried to do as told. "Your feet are too close together. Gotta stand with your feet apart some in order to brace yourself." He corrected her foot positioning with one hand on her hip

–_liquid lightning shot through her at the contact of his hand, connecting her head to her toes as her stomach fluttered and he smelled so good and –_

And she took a breath, letting it out slowly as her cheeks darkened just a little.

His hand was still on her hip.

"Sight down the scope, but keep both eyes open," he told her, lowering his voice as she did so and wondering if the shiver that ran through her had something to do with fighting the safety-catch those fed scum had saddled her with. "Tighten your shoulder a little bit and squeeze the trigger," he said, and she tensed her shoulder before sliding her finger around the trigger and squeezing slowly.

The shot was loud. It took off the top half of the man shaped target's head. It pushed River back violently by the shoulder into Jayne, whose hand slid from her hip to her stomach while his other hand kept the gun from flying in a random direction – possibly one that would having it accidentally discharging in their direction. River let out a cry of surprise and grabbed at her shoulder as Jayne held her up, rolling his eyes a little but letting the girl steady herself.

–_she fought the giggle that threatened to burst from her, the already dulling ache in her shoulder drowned by the sensation of bodily contact, his sturdy abs warming her back while his hand splayed over the skin of her abdomen. Skitters of cool pleasure chased each other over her body and she lingered there– _

River straightened reluctantly and looked at the target, surprised when the head portion was partly gone. She gave a small delighted cry and smiled up at Jayne, who looked grudgingly satisfied.

"Well it's a start, I guess."


	5. Chapter 4

Author's note: Thank you so much for your reviews. I'm glad you appreciate my meager offering. Sorry it took so long for this next little bit, but I was getting a little focused on the Rayne part of my story and was neglecting nearly everything else. I was fleshing things out. Also, there were some other things that momentarily captured my full and undivided attention. I'll do my best to keep the time between postings down.

Short bit, this time, hope you like it.

* * *

"So, how's Zoe holding up? I mean really," Cal asked Kaylee as she lent a hand in the engine room. The grease-weasel sighed, shooting a look towards the walkway to make sure they weren't overheard.

"She took it awful hard," Kaylee told her, and Cal nodded. She'd suspected as much. "She was in the infirmary so long after Miranda that...we thought..." She looked down at the rag she was wiping her greasy fingers on and tried not to think back to how hard it was for all of them to go on without Wash. "Thought she wasn't gonna make it," she said, looking up at their new pilot before sighing, her smile a little smaller than usual. "But she did," added the pretty mechanic. Cal handed her the tool she needed and she turned back to the engine while the pilot drifted into thought.

Pretty much everyone aboard had given her the same story. Zoe'd been laid up in the infirmary with the doctor lookin after her, and everyone checkin in on her, but she'd just lay there and say nothin, and everyone was worried she might just off herself (even Jayne had made mention of it, although he covered his concern with crass insinuations about bunk size and the size of his cut). Then one day she'd just up and got on with business. Cal was glad, but that didn't mean it made sense. She knew how Wash felt about Zoe, and she was pretty sure that Zoe felt the same about Wash. If Zoe had died, Wash would have laid down and done the same.

_Time to talk to Zoe_, she thought, and there was an impatient sigh.

_Took you long enough_.

* * *

Calinthia found Zoe in the cargo bay, sitting on the stairs that lead up to the catwalk and staring into the space that surrounded their little vessel, and she approached carefully, making sure to step a little heavier than she usually would so that she didn't startle her ex-military sister-in-law.

"You don't have to stomp, Cal, I'd hear you walking from the other end of the ship," Zoe said calmly, and Cal smirked slightly as she walked over and leaned against the railing. "Did you need something?" the first mate asked her. Cal snorted.

"I have a pressin' need to see my sister-in-law smile. That count?" she asked, watching the other woman's lips curl upwards slightly.

"I suppose it might, but I'm not sure I could oblige," Zoe replied. Cal nodded.

"Fair enough. Alright if I sit with you?"

Cal already knew that it would be nearly impossible to trick Zoe into revealing something that she didn't already feel like divulging, so she didn't plan on wasting the effort. That meant that when Zoe sighed and looked up at her, there was no panic in her face at having been figured out by this experienced military strategist and soldier, just a sister's affection and comforting concern.

"What's on your mind, Cal?" Zoe asked. Cal shrugged.

"I asked about you," she answered. Zoe didn't look surprised. Cal didn't think she would be. "You almost died," she added. Zoe sighed again, looking back at the grated floor of the cargo bay.

"The doctor patched me up fine, Cal. I wasn't hurt that badly. Didn't even get an infection," she said. Cal shook her head.

"I didn't mean during the fight, I mean after, while you were lying in that infirmary, missing your husband," the pilot told her. Zoe's shoulders tensed.

"Cal," she started, but the elder Wash sibling pushed off of the railing and walked around so that she was in front of Zoe before crouching down in front of her. Her expression was firm in a way that none of the others could be.

"Don't tell me it's not my business, Zoe Washburn, because you are my brother's wife and that makes it my business," she said, meeting the other woman's burning gaze with an equally fierce glare and holding her ground.

"Wash is dead," Zoe told her, but her voice cracked, and Cal nodded.

"Which means that it's my responsibility now to make sure you're going to be okay," she replied. Zoe looked away and said nothing. "Now when you were in that bed recovering, everyone says that you were a ghost. They said you were dead but for a heartbeat. I get that," she said, and Zoe looked at her, but she just tilted her head. "Hoban raved about you. He gushed. He went on at length about his emotional attachment to you. If you had died, he'd have gone after you." Cal thought she saw Zoe's eyes soften just a bit as she looked off to one side, but she couldn't be sure. "So you wanted to die. And then one day – according to everyone I've talked to – you just up and got on with it," she said, staring at her sister for any indication as to what might have caused this abrupt turn-around. She had suspicions, of course – person lives a life like the one Calinthia had and they learn to be perceptive and intuitive pretty quick if they want to live at all – but suspicions were one thing and confirmation was another. "Zoe," coaxed the concerned pilot. Zoe sighed and looked at her.

Her expression was one of well-contained fear and panic, and Cal felt her heart squeeze in her chest, suddenly afraid it might be something she was horribly unprepared to help with.

"I'm...pregnant," Zoe told her slowly, and Cal took a deep breath, calming herself. This was what she suspected had caused Zoe's renewed will to live. Smiling softly, she reached out and took Zoe's hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze when the frightened warrior woman held onto it as though it would keep her from flying apart into nothing. In the back of her head, Cal was asking the voice she carried to keep his peals of shock and joy to a dull roar.

"It's okay, Zoe," Cal assured her, moving to sit next to her on the steps. "He would be so happy for you. He'd be ecstatic," she promised. Zoe shook her head a little before looking at Cal, her eyes a little shinier than usual.

"He didn't want kids," she argued in a small voice filled with vulnerability that she'd long since learned how to hide and Calinthia Washburn rolled her eyes at the outraged squawk that only she could hear.

"Zoe, honey, believe me, he wanted babies. He wanted lots and lots of babies. He wanted to colonize small planets with your progeny," Cal told her, provoking a small laugh. "He just didn't want to raise them in a state of impending disaster. It's one thing to worry about him pushing the lamp off the table – Wash didn't want the little tyke to have to survive a gun fight. He'd be so happy," she promised.

"I don't know..." Zoe started before stopping and shaking her head, frustrated and scared. "I don't know what to do," she admitted. Cal gave her shoulder a comforting rub. "I don't know how to raise kids. I don't know how to be a mom," she went on, working herself up. Cal shook her head and thought how absurd a thought that was.

"Zoe, it's okay," Cal said, squeezing her hand. "It's almost exactly like being first mate to this crew," she quipped and Zoe laughed again. "Lots of pokin' around everywhere, doin' wrong and making mistakes. Less of the feigned innocence, though. That comes later," she added, smiling at her sister's laughter.

The laughter trailed off after a moment, and the smile became a determined grimace, holding back the black despair that Wash's death had filled her with.

"I miss him," she said, her voice rough from the tears she would not let herself cry. Cal nodded.

"I'm absolutely certain he misses you too," she replied, reaching out and brushing some hair out of her sister's eyes. "Come on," she said as she stood up, gesturing upwards. "I've got some of the family albums that mom sent me the last time she could get a hold of me. There's some stories I want to tell you about my brother," she explained. Zoe smiled again, climbing to her feet and following Cal up the stairs.

* * *

Cal watched Zoe sleep and smiled softly as she looked down at the photo album, touching the laminated pictures before softly closing the book. She'd told Zoe stories about Wash that would have made the man burst into flames from embarrassment if he'd been there. She'd made Zoe laugh until she cried, and then just held her when those tears of mirth became much more painful tears of loss. The young pilot had shed a few tears of her own – tears of sympathy – as she soothed away some of the agony her sister had been holding onto. Holding onto it tight because letting go of the pain meant letting go of Wash and she never wanted to let go – not ever.

Cal shook her head as she grabbed a throw from one of the nearby stacks of laundry and draped it over the mercenary, leaving her clothed. As quietly as she could, she collected the photo album and left, closing the door to Zoe's bunk behind her and making her way back to her own.

_Pregnant_, the voice sighed, joy pressed into every facet of the word. Cal ducked her head to hide a grin at the sheer delight in his tone.

_I'm gonna be an aunt_, she thought back. _Gonna spoil that li'l Wash rotten._

_She's gonna make an excellent mom. _He sounded wistful.

_Yes. She is. And once you're back, you better be an excellent father,_ Cal thought as she descended the ladder into her bunk.


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I'm so glad to have found such an eager audience. And thanks to goddessofbirth for pointing out the missing symbols between scene changes. This should make future chapters easier to understand.

Enjoy

* * *

"Alright," Mal said as he Zoe, and Jayne readied themselves to depart while Cal sat on the stairs and made jokes. They had to offload the cargo that they'd picked up in Tulsa (assorted illegal entertainments) and get paid, all without a double cross and with both Mal and Cal worried to death that Zoe might be shot. Jayne didn't appear to be thinking about anything in general, but he did roll his eyes as River approached, wearing a pair of Kaylee's coveralls that she'd taken and some boots too.

"The red moon shines. It's bloody," she told them, her face tight with worry and frantic urgency, and everyone shared a glance before turning to face her. It was the way she'd dressed up and looked so frightened that had them paying attention. Usually when she made predictions, it was with a face so empty they could have put up a vacancy sign.

"What's wrong, li'l albatross?" Mal asked her, and she pressed her lips together, frustrated that she could only catch fragments of her whirling thoughts. This was so _important!_

"He lies and takes. The grinning man is _greedy_. He wants the peace but his soul is dark – too dark for peace. Don't trust him, Daddy!" she urged, and he held up his hands. Jayne watched him slowly approach the girl and tilted his head, looking at River. She didn't even see the Captain, she was so lost in her own vasty nothingness of a head, trying to hold on to whatever it was got her so agitated. He glanced back at the Zoe an' Cal an' cleared his throat.

"Mal, this maybe ain' the bes' time for ya t' be treatin' 'er like she's a spooked horse," he said, and the Captain stopped, turning and pinning Jayne with a warning glare.

"You got a better way to handle our frantic psychic? 'Cause it seems she got somethin' to say, and I'd like to know what it is," he said. Jayne looked at him for a moment, considered River some more and then shrugged, giving a nod as if to assure himself that his plan – whatever it might be – was solid before handing his gun to Zoe. He also removed his gunbelt and handed it to Cal before taking a breath and walking over to the girl who was pressing her hands to her head, trying to keep the secrets of the universe inside. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped, looking up at him and blinking.

He held eye contact with her for a moment and then leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Mal tensed, not entirely sure he was comfortable with his merc being that close to his psychic, but as he watched, the panic that had gripped her slipped away, leaving her calmer and more focused. A feeling of unease settled on the captain, as well as suspicion, but he said nothing as Jayne stood up and looked down at her.

"Dong ma?" the merc asked, and River looked up at him. Her expression wasn't timid, nor embarrassed, nor affronted at having been handled by Jayne, and Mal wanted to know why but she just nodded and Jayne took a couple steps back, folding his arms and watching her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and widening her stance a little before opening her eyes and looking at Mal.

"The man you are going to see is more untrustworthy than your plans have allowed for," she said in a calm, clear voice that had eyebrows rising on the faces of everyone except Jayne, who looked smug for reasons unknown. "He is a greedy man, and he wants control of everything he sees. He'll want Serenity, he'll try to take it. He has men...hiding," her voice started to falter and her brows furrowed as her spine curved and her shoulders hunched forward.

"Hey," Jayne said, and she looked at him, blinking before looking at herself and squeezing her eyes shut. She muttered something under her breath and took another breath.

"The mission is too dangerous for you to leave without me. And you will need Wash in the pilot's seat, ready to run," she told Mal, who looked at her and then looked at Jayne. The merc met his gaze easily with an expression that said torture could not extract the method he'd used to make River more coherent. Mal stared at him for a moment before his eyes slid past him to Zoe, who was standing by the doors. He sighed and then looked back at River, stepping closer and lowering his voice.

"Do you know?" he asked, meeting her fathomless black eyes and allowing his mind to be uncharacteristically open to the possibility...the probability that she knew all three of the thoughts it contained. She glanced at Zoe.

"It's a girl," she said quietly, and he felt a flash of affection for the unborn Wash before nodding and getting back to the issue at hand.

"If Zoe goes on the mission," he started, but she shook her head.

"Too many variables, not enough time to calculate the safest trajectories and proper armor densities," she told him, and he nodded.

"Out of curiosity, how much time would you need?" he asked.

"Ten days, seven hours, twenty-three minutes and forty seconds, without sleep or food," she answered. He blinked at her for a moment, wondering if she was kidding or not and contemplating Zoe's reaction before nodding and turning back to Zoe, who already looked displeased. He sighed and steeled himself for one hell of a fight and then the mission after.

* * *

"Well, Captain, I hope this was worth putting my sister into harm's way for," Simon said as he patched another bullet hole. Mal rolled his eyes.

"Was your sister's idea, Doc," he reminded, holding back a yelp as the Central planet surgeon tugged a little harder than was necessary on the suture.

"She's seventeen years old," Simon told him, snipping the thread of his suture and getting a bandage. "If she gets an idea, you take it into consideration, you don't take her with you into a den of murderers," he snapped.

"And I wouldn't have, if certain conditions hadn't prompted her to speak up," Mal replied, looking meaningfully at Simon, who stopped and returned the look. Mal glanced around, but the others had already been treated and removed themselves to the chow hall. "She stepped in to protect Zoe. And if she hadn't been there, it's probable you'd be doin' more than just stitchin' a hole, one of us'd probably be dead now," he added unhappily. Simon considered that and everything he'd learned about his baby sister in the last year or so and sighed, collecting his instruments.

"When does Inara get back?" he asked, changing the subject. Mal nodded, looking around the infirmary.

"Shopping list you gave her, probably take her more than a couple of days. She'll have to travel around the Central planets, using her contracts to obfuscate the intended destination, remove some trackers, etcetera. Soon, though, I expect," offered the Captain, allowing Simon to help him get his arm through his shirt sleeve. "Thanks," he said. "Ought to be interesting, couple month's time," he added, and Simon nodded.

"Yes, very interesting," he replied.

* * *

River closed her eyes and floated in memories.

"_Ain' shootin' blanks, moonbrain,"_ Jayne had told her in that low, teacher's voice he used on the ranges they found for practice. _"Them prophecies you spout're as dangerous as any weapon. Take a breath, let it out slow. Stan' up straight an' find yer stance. Yer words're the gun, yer thoughts're the target, an' I'm right here."_ His hand on her shoulder connected her feet to the grating beneath her boots and his breath on her skin (_-he smelled of cigar and sweat and gun oil-_) focused her mind like a laser sight.

She sighed, tracing her fingers over the edge of the bandage that covered the only wound she'd gotten on the mission: A bullet graze on her abdomen that she'd gotten as Jayne had shoved her backwards out of the line of fire. His three bullet wounds and the laceration he'd gotten from a knife were mostly because of that one action, making his survival and his decimation of their mutual enemy that much more impressive. She sighed, a tinge of pink lighting her cheeks as her thoughts drifted in his direction.

Her plans were progressing, but slowly. She needed to speed things up.


	7. Chapter 6

"Someone needs to keep River busy," said Mal, looking over at Jayne with a somewhat meaningful expression. The big man was busy checking his guns, so it took him a moment to look up and see the way they were all looking at him (except Simon, who looked grimly resigned).

"What?" he demanded, feeling an unsettling sensation curl in his gut. "Why're y'all lookin' at me?" he asked, scowling at the Captain and Zoe, who shrugged one shoulder.

"Someone's gotta look after her, Jayne," she told him and he gaped at her.

"The hell—what's it gotta be me for?" he snapped. Sure the shootin' lessons had been goin' okay – the girl always seemed all manner of flushed and fidgety when they were done, but her aim and accuracy had improved. Still, that didn' mean they were friends or nothin'.

"Everyone else is busy. Simon, Zoe, and I are pullin' the job. Kaylee's out fixin' our engine problems with her shiny new load of money—"

"What about Wash?" Jayne suggested, looking at Cal, who arched an eyebrow. Mal looked annoyed at his crew's continued use of their former pilot's nickname, despite how appropriately it applied to their new one.

"Callie's stayin' to watch the ship. She don' have time to make sure no one makes off with the ship _and_ keep an eye on our albatross. An' Inara ain' here. That leaves you."

"Aw, hell, Mal, I can—"

"Jayne," Mal said, and Jayne cursed. "Stop arguin'. All ya gotta do is watch her."

"Great. An' what am I s'posed t' do, jus' stay on the ship?"

"You could take her shopping," Simon suggested, and they all looked at him, Jayne's face carrying a noticeable trace of horror. "I keep meaning to – she's grown out of some things – but there never seems to be time," he explained.

"There, y'see?" said Mal with a tight smile. "Shiny. Have fun, stay outta trouble."

* * *

"I made a list. This is everything she needs, but there are extra credits if she sees something that she likes," Simon told him, handing him the list and the cash. Jayne glared at him, shoving it all in his pockets. "Thank you for doing this," the doctor added, his expression genuinely grateful. Jayne rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Only doin' it t' get off the ship, Doc," he snapped, but Simon just smiled softly and left. Jayne watched him go and went to go find his sister.

* * *

Jayne fidgeted uncomfortably as he sat in the chair outside the dressing room and waited for River to try on the under-things that the saleslady had helped her select, wanting to get out of the store as soon as possible to avoid being seen inside. River was of course thwarting his desire to escape the lace and satin filled outlet. He could see her feet from under the door, turning this way and that – no doubt as she inspected her potential purchases from every angle.

She'd been in there for a while.

"Shèng mŭ jí zào luó zi, girl, how long's it take t' see if they fit?" he barked through the door, watching her feet give a little jerk, as though she'd been startled.

"Having a malfunction. The clothing is problematic," she replied, and he cursed, rolling his eyes.

"Well figure it out, dŏng ma?" he snapped, going back to his chair. He cursed his rotten luck, wonderin' what the others were doin' and hopin' that they were havin' just as bad a time as he was.

"Is this right?"

He looked up at the soft, uncertain words and felt a surge of adrenaline course through his gut. River was standing by the open dressing room door, wearing almost nothing. It was the most skin he'd seen since she'd crawled out of the cryo-box, and she'd been naked then. He hadn't realized how much of a difference those two scraps of material could make, especially with that long, rich brown hair tumbling down about her shoulders and that shy, innocent blush. The small linear burn on her abdomen drew his eyes downward over her stomach—

"Gorramit, ya crazy—" he snapped, averting his gaze a little belatedly.

River looked down at herself, hair falling forward to hide how deeply her blush had spread, and the way she was biting her lip. He was pleased by her appearance, but disturbed by his own reaction.

"Is it wrong?" she asked him, with a believable semblance of innocence.

Yes. So wrong. So very, very wrong. Sĭ wáng bā pí.

"How the hell should I know? 'S not as if I examine the things afore I –" He jumped from that explosive laden train of thought before it could come to a conclusion and looked around. Where in the ruttin' hell was that sales woman?

"Simon says Jayne helps River today," she told him, and he rolled his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling.

_C'mon, Preacher. I ain' been _that_ bad...lately._

"_Jayne_," River whined, and he felt an unexpected shudder, getting to his feet and hurrying over to her in order to get her to stop making the sound that was making his guts clench like they did when he spotted a particularly pretty whore.

"Alright, alright, yē sū," he muttered, forcing himself to look at her (not the hard part) with a critical eye and an unlecherous mindset (the hard part). River turned around, looking over her shoulder to watch him inspect the clothing. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the clasp so he motioned for her to turn and then looked at the front of it. Everything looked fine.

More than fine.

Supple.

He blinked, feeling his skin flush with a familiar, wanting sensation, looked at River's expectant (and _innocent_) face, and then turned and walked away, his guts curling into knots of equal parts desire and disgust.

"Jayne!"

"It's fine!" he shouted back, startling a few unwary customers. Outside the store, he took a few lungfuls of air to get control of himself, pushing the image of an almost completely naked River out of his mind. He might get his rocks off every now and again to thoughts of Kaylee, or 'Nara, or Zoe, or – hell, even li'l Callie Wash, but they was full grown women, and fair game. River was not, and she was the Doc's crazy sister. An' the Doc wouldn' be the only one comin' after 'im if it ever came out he'd seen River in her underwear.

"Sir?" came a tentative woman's voice, and he took a breath, turning to face her. It was the saleswoman from before. "Your young lady has requested that I tell you she has selected her purchases and that it is safe for you to come back in," she told him, and he fought the blush that was creeping up his neck at her arched eyebrow.

"Fine," he replied gruffly, and she nodded, going back into the store. He sighed, trying to think of other things as he walked back into the store, deciding to stay near the front, where it was relatively safe. He looked around at the other women in the store, who were perusing the lacy and satiny bits and then stopped when his eyes fell upon one of the models.

She was about River's height and weight and build, and she wore a silky looking red slip with matching panties. He didn't blink for a long time, replacing the girl's dusky skin with a fairer complexion and darker hair. Cursing he glanced around and then moved purposefully towards the model.

* * *

"Hey, there's our baby-sitter," said Mal as Jayne drove the mule onto the ship. Everyone assembled gaped at the sheer number of bags and boxes that weighed it down. "Wo de ma, did you buy out the entire town?" he asked. Jayne didn't answer, grabbing two of the bags and walking off without a word, leaving the others to help River unload and carry things to her room.

The young woman in question looked transformed – the frayed dress that she'd been wearing earlier was replaced with a new, flowing shirt in dark green that fell down to her thighs while it clung to her arms and upper torso. On her legs she wore a new pair of patterned leggings that cut off at the knees, and her beat up combat boots had been replaced with black soft leather boots with three sets of criss-cross buckles up the sides. She wore black gloves on her hands and a black pauper's hat adorned with silver goggles perched primly and perfectly on her head.

"River, wow," Kaylee said, delighted by River's new look, and the reader smiled, blushing. "You look so pretty," gushed the mechanic. River did a twirl for her friend and then kept on dancing because it felt good to do so and because she was pleased with the day's results.

"She does at that. Poor Jayne – she must have dragged him all over that complex," Mal commented, still looking at the bags. Simon came into the cargo bay from the infirmary and smiled at the sight of his sister in one piece. And dancing. Kaylee clapped when the younger woman bowed theatrically.

"Looks like you had a good day," he said, and River beamed at him. "Are there any credits left?" he asked, expecting the answer to be 'no'. He was surprised when she handed him a small wad of remaining cash.

"Wow."

"Silly boy thinks this is a Core planet," she teased, before twirling and dancing over to the Mule and grabbing a few of the bags. Kaylee grabbed a couple too, following her friend to the passenger dorms to gush over her new acquisitions.

* * *

Jayne stood at the foot of the ladder leading out of his bunk for a long time after closing the door, holding onto one of the iron rungs with one hand and looking at the bags he held with the other, jaw clenched as he tried to quiet the turmoil within himself. Turmoil was a weakness out here, a weakness to the life he lived. It got men killed – men who weren't sure exactly what they were doing or what their place was in the scheme of things. Jayne was good at creating turmoil – better when he was with Zoe or Mal or Ri—other smart people who were good at manipulating their enemy.

He walked to the small bed he slept in and opened the first bag, dumping its contents on the rumpled blankets and sorting through them. The belt buckle was a replacement – a little shinier than he usually liked (shiny metal on a merc wasn't good. Dull was better, wouldn't catch the light as much, give their position away), but it'd caught his eye, and he didn't often buy himself things. The shirts and pants went into his clothes bin. He crumpled the bag and threw it into his trash chute before looking at the other bag, fists clenching at the hurricane of opposites his emotions became.

He was angry at himself for buying it, and disgusted with himself at why he'd bought it, and he sneered as he sat on the bunk, rubbing his face with his hands and then scrubbing them through his hair. It weren't right. He shouldn't've done it, he'd felt guilty even as he paid money for it – cash, untraceable – and he stared at the bag for a short eternity before reaching out with shaking hands and drawing it closer. His pulse raced with equal parts shame, fear of discovery, and excitement as he opened it and looked inside.

They seemed so innocuous, lying in the bottom of the bag. Shapeless scraps of bright red silk. They could have been anything. Except that they couldn't, and he swallowed the lump that had clogged his throat before closing the bag and pushing it under the bunk, behind the box he kept there of all his old girl-calendars. He sighed, feeling sick at himself and not knowing what to do about it. A thought crossed his mind – something the Preacher had once said to him – and he looked up, glancing around his small bunk before sliding off of the bunk onto his knees. Feeling utterly ridiculous, he folded his hands together and searched for words.

"Uh, Preacher...if you c'n still hear me...if yer still around...I could sure use some o' that Preachin' you used t' give me," he said, sighing after a moment and unfolding his hands. Book used to say that talkin' to God or those that passed was like talkin' t' anybody, and he didn't talk t' nobody on his knees with his hands folded and head hung low like some dog. "It ain' right, Preacher," he said, getting to his feet and pacing. "It jus' ain' right for me t' be havin' thoughts like that. I ain' never touched a girl in my life, women _only_. Never even _thought_ about it 'afore. This some kinda test, Preach? Cause it ain' right," he snapped, before sitting on his bed and holding his head in his hands. "Maybe I ain' a good man, but I'm not...I'm better'n I was 'fore I met this crew...this Captain, even. I'm better'n I was, an' I ain' never been _that_ bad. Take it away from me, Book. Please," he asked, closing his eyes and wishing that he'd feel better like the Shepherd said he would.

* * *

Two posts in one day. Whew. Alright, so I do have a small confession to make. I've lost my translations (I have a little mandarin pinyan app on my ipod, that's where I got most of the translations from and they're probably riddled with mistakes. I apologize). I will do my best to remember where I wrote them down and once I find them, I will post them for you, because they're really rather funny (or at least I thought so when I wrote them). Thank you, that is all.


	8. Special Appearance By Shepherd Book

They met Inara on Shadow, in one of the unpopulated plains areas. She had a transport ship waiting there with everything that Simon had sent her to get that wouldn't fit in her shuttle.

"'Nara!" Kaylee chirped, skipping across the small distance and flinging her arms around the Companion, who smiled at her young friend's enthusiasm. "So glad you're back," the mechanic told her, and she nodded.

"I'm glad to _be_ back. Have you gotten up to much trouble while I was away?" she asked, glancing towards Simon, who was making his way over to the transport ship. Kaylee blushed and grinned.

"Tons," she replied happily, before following Simon, and Inara shook her head as she watched them before turning back to The Captain and the others.

"I hope I didn't miss too much of the excitement," she offered, and Mal shrugged.

"Four jobs, six double crosses, a couple bar fights," he replied. "You?"

"Nothing nearly as banal," she quipped. "I've had to contact nearly every one of my former clients in order to get this equipment. I won't be able to ask favors for at least a year," she told him. He seemed chipper about it, smiling as he replied, "What a shame," before heading off to talk to the doctor. Inara let a small smile cross her lips once he couldn't see, and then walked over to Zoe and Calinthia.

"Inara," greeted the first mate, and Inara hugged her.

"How are you?"

"Still living," Zoe replied, and Inara nodded.

"For a long while yet, I hope," offered the Companion.

"So where are we putting the baby equipment?" Cal asked, careful to keep her voice low. Inara hesitated, glancing at Zoe, but the first mate nodded.

"I already told her."

"Possibly in one of the empty passenger dorms, if there's enough room. The medical bay isn't big enough for a maternity ward," Inara said. Cal nodded.

"What about the shuttle?" she asked, and they blinked. "Well, I'm just saying, with our luck, we'll have to make a run for it while Zoe's giving birth. Probably best to put the equipment in something mobile," she offered.

Things were quickly discussed with the Captain and Inara, who graciously agreed to move out of the shuttle that she'd made her home and into one of the crew dormitories, allowing Zoe to move her things into the shuttle, along with the equipment they'd need when the time came. Cal helped Zoe gather her things, carefully piling them in the middle of the bed before pulling the corners together like a sack. As they went to carry it up the ladder, Cal put a hand on her sister's arm.

"Hey," she said, and Zoe looked at her. "It's going to be okay, Zoe. Once Wash Jr. is born, you can move back into the crew dorm, prolly keep him from falling down stairs and such," she assured the first mate, who took a deep breath and nodded.

"I know," she said, glancing back into the room. "I just been living in this room for so long, I..." she started, but Cal smiled. She understood. "Anyway, let's get this done. You still have to make dinner," she went on, and the pilot grinned.

* * *

River knew that she had to proceed carefully after the trip to the shopping centers. She had pushed some uncomfortable buttons, and his reaction had been pleasing, but also in the negative. He was struggling with unnecessary moral imperatives regarding the length of time society required a person to exist before they could connect without disapproval and aversion. People were so backward.

The next time they sat down for some planet-side diversion he wasn't waiting by the door of his bunk as he usually was, and she frowned, casting her mind in his direction and heading down towards the Cargo bay. He was lifting weights. She frowned some more, despite the pleasant sight it provided her with. She'd been looking forward to his continued instruction.

She didn't need to glance around to know that nearly everyone else was occupied, but she did so anyway before walking down the steps and making her way to the weights bench. As she approached, she saw his jaw tighten, and his muscles bunched more than was necessary for the completion of his work-out.

"Ain' your brother s'pose t' be watchin' ya?" he growled, and she ignored him, dutifully standing at the head of his bench to spot him as Shepherd Book had once done.

"Six hours remain before Captain Daddy and his merry band return," she told him, and he sighed, continuing his routine.

"Yup. Reckon that's so," he replied. She rolled her eyes.

"My current training is insufficient, you must complete your instruction," she told him, and he put the bar back on the rungs, sitting up and looking at her. He appeared angry, and frustrated, and several other negative emotions that slowly leeched out of him until all that was left was weary frustration and worn resistance.

"Fine. Get them," he ordered, and she nodded.

"Location," she prompted. He met her eyes and let an image of a ghost town cross the front of his brain, knowing she would see it. She nodded again and then flitted away gracefully, leaving him alone in the cargo bay. He sighed, rubbing his face.

"Special hell," he reminded himself, holding that thought in his head, away from the other thoughts, in case River was monitoring. "Special hell," he said again, getting up and heading out towards their target practice.

He got there before her, not having to stealthily tote several projectile weapons across the open landscape and all, and set up the targets he intended her to shoot. He glanced up at the sound of a bag being dropped and stopped, a shock of adrenaline flooding him. For a second, he'd thought Cal or Kaylee had caught them, before his eyes registered that it was River, wearing a vest and a pair of pants that he'd never seen before.

He was pretty sure he'd been staring for a minute before his brain started to yell at him again, and he looked back at the targets, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Gorrammit, this was gonna get him killed. Using every ounce of control he'd collected over the years, he stood and walked over to where she was standing, appearing indifferent to her apparel even as he admired the new look.

She looked scrappy. He liked scrappy.

"Alright, start with Candy an' show me whatchya remember," he told her, and she nodded, unzipping the duffel of weapons and getting started.

Everything was fine up until Stephanie, A Lewiston special, forty-two caliber assault rifle, and Jayne found himself annoyed that possibly the most easy to use weapon ever created by a man was giving her the most trouble. As he stepped up to once again adjust her stance and posture, he found himself hating Stephanie. In fact he hated all his rifles, since they made it almost impossible to ignore how well River fit against him. He tried to spend as little time as he could making sure she wasn't going to bust a shoulder or be thrown backwards by the recoil, but she was so damn _fidgety_!

"Gĕi yăn lèi gān háo! How can ya see anythin' with all this hair?" he demand, pulling the long curtain of dark brown behind her ear and over her shoulder so he could make sure she was sighting correctly. _She smells like cinnamon…_

"No wind in a spaceship," she reminded him, and he sighed, checking her stance and taking a few steps back to what he deemed a safe distance.

"Alright, that's better. Now, what do you do?" he asked.

"Firm shoulder, both eyes open, breathe, squeeze," she recited, and he nodded.

"Well, go on, then," he told her. She braced herself, took a breath, let it out, and squeeze.

The can went flying. She didn't move from her stance like the last time, when she'd done a little victory dance. Instead she just moved the rifle until she could sight the second target: a mangled gun magazine that'd never see another firefight. It went flying as well, and she smiled, lowering the rifle until it was pointed at the ground and looking at Jayne for marks. He nodded.

"Now do it again without my help," he told her, and she looked a little uncertain, but nodded, pulling the rifle back to her shoulder. He watched her mutter his own instructions to herself and sighed as he resigned himself to this constant torture.

* * *

He was dreaming. Staring at the wide open prairie that he found himself in, Jayne didn't find this realization uncomfortable or unsettling. He just accepted it.

"Hello, Jayne." He turned his head, a smile crossing his face.

"Shepherd," he greeted. Shepherd Darriel Book smiled, walking over to stand next to the mercenary.

"Didn't expect to see you here," the clergyman told him, and Jayne shrugged. "I appreciated the prayer, by the way," he added. Jayne's eyebrow was speculative.

"Heard that, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," nodded Book. "I was surprised, to be sure. I didn't know I'd had such an effect on you," he continued, sounding pleased. Jayne shrugged, worried that the Shepherd might— "Condemn you? For your feelings, Jayne? Please," the other man chided gently, but the bigger man just shrugged again.

"She's just a kid," he said, and Darriel raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" he asked. Jayne blinked, confused. "Jayne, that poor young woman hasn't been a child since she was fourteen," he explained. "Nobody could have done to them what River had done to her and still remain a child, no matter how vulnerable or innocent they _seem_...or are made to seem," he added. Jayne frowned.

"You don't think they..." Even in a dream he couldn't bring himself to say what he meant, but Shepherd just shrugged.

"I couldn't know. Only River and the people who tortured her know that," he said. "And Jayne, what you're feeling isn't what you _think_ you're feeling," he added. Jayne's eyebrows twitched together in confusion.

"How d'ya figure?" he asked. The deceased man of god sighed and tried to think of a way to explain it to his former weights partner.

"You've always been uncomfortable around River, back when she was only sixteen, and her brother and the captain's over-protectiveness of her have given you the idea that to have feelings of any sort other than respect are wrong or perverse, but it isn't so," he said. Jayne scoffed. "No, I'm serious. River is a grown up, or she will be very soon, and she's a charming young woman. It's only reasonable that you might feel an attraction for her," insisted Shepherd. Jayne shook his head.

"Don' matter, Preach. She's still the doc's crazy sis. Even if I did have...feelings—"

"Which you do," Shepherd assured him. Jayne glared at the dead man.

"—_maybe_. I ain' got a chance. I even hafta teach 'er guns in secret. The others ever find out, I'm—" he cut himself off with a wince and looked at Shepherd, who looked unruffled.

"Son, I seriously doubt that you and I will meet again for a long time, except in the occasional dream, where I might offer guidance," he said, before looking at the sky, which had darkened a little. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to go. There's work to be done."

Jayne looked confused to be hearing Mal's voice coming out of the Preacher's mouth—

He sat up in his bunk with sharp breath, feeling a strange sort of vertigo as Mal's voice drifted down through his locked door.

"Jayne, did you hear me? I said we got a job," the captain yelled.

"Yeah, Mal, I hear ya," he called back, before sitting on his bunk and trying to remember what he was dreaming about. Something about a meadow. And Preacher? He shook his head and reached for a pair of pants, thinking how whatever it was had left him feeling much better than he had for the last few days.

* * *

A/N: Okay, maybe I should have parsed that out better, so as to give myself more time for creative what-not, but here's the deal. I'm heavily mentally invested in the story that I'm trying to get published, so I may not be on here again to post more story parts for a bit (a bit is as specific as I can be at this juncture, sorry). Do not give up hope for I _shall_ finish this story, because I like it, and I'll probably fiddle when I get blocked on my Story (capitals. Important).

Thanks to RevDorothyL for spotting my typo, alisosia, more scenes with Cal and River are 'scheduled' to be written, and thanks so much to everyone who added me to your alerts and has reviewed my story. Makes a girl feel welcomed. Please continue to do so if you have any questions or suggestions or thoughts at all on the story.


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Okay, I know it's been a reeeaaally long time since I posted last, and I sincerely apologize. RL sucks and is more distracting than I give it credit for. And I shouldn't have posted multiple chapters in a single day. It raised your expectations. That was rather silly of me. Hopefully it won't be so long before the next chapter, and I'm sorry if this one isn't as good as the last couple. I tried to give it the same feel, but I think I fell a little short. Anyway, here you go. (Again. Sorry about the wait, please don't kill me)

* * *

Jayne was avoiding her. Noticeably.

The next time they set down on a planet for R&R, Jayne was out of the ship before the ramp was even down, leaving River in someone else's care. The young psychic frowned, but said nothing, accepting that this day there would be no weapons training. In her head she recited everything that she knew about shooting his guns, using their names. Captain Daddy and Big Brother cast glances at her for the muttering but said nothing. They'd long since stopped giving her medicine.

Inara and Mal left the ship separately although River had already traced their separate routes and found that they would be having dinner later together. Kaylee and Simon went off together, openly affectionate, while Zoe wandered off to look at some things for the baby.

Eventually, the only people left on the ship were her and the new pilot, who smiled at her as cheerfully as she could before closing up the ramp and glancing around.

"So," she said, and River rolled her eyes.

"Ghosts are dead because they have no body," the teenager said, shaking her head at Cal for not being able to understand this simple logic. Cal blinked and thought this over for a moment before slowly nodding.

"You're gonna have to slow your thought process down a bit, sweetie, I ain't that bright," she finally replied. River sighed and muttered something under her breath.

"Wash is here," she started, and Cal nodded at that, looking somewhat sheepish. "Wash is in your head. Wash is in your body. Wash is not dead," she added, giving the thirty-something pilot a look used by most kindergarten teachers. Cal smirked.

"You're not the slightest bit concerned about the fact that he's all incorporeal, are you?" she asked, sounding amazed. River shrugged, and the older Wash nodded. "Yeah, probably seen weirder," she mused. "You know the crew would flip if they knew, right?" she asked. River pinned her with a suddenly severe glare.

"Time is wasting. Too long and his return will shock them. They will be broken," she said. Cal nodded seriously.

"I'll tell them when we're done here," she promised. River gave her the evil eye and walked away, her steps light and graceful. Cal watched her go and shook her head a little. _She's like an old fashioned school marm,_ she thought, and her brother laughed.

_Before she was just crazy and whimsical. I like this River better. She's still crazy, but she knows how to use it,_ he replied.

* * *

Jayne had paid and bedded five whores before realizing that it wasn't helping him none, and he grumbled about money wasted for a little bit before directing his energy into drink. A couple of all-night binges followed by almighty hangovers that laid him up for a day and a half later (not to mention one or two brawls that he may or may not have started, according to fuzzy minded recall) he realized that he only had a handful of options that would actually make a difference, and he swore off drinking and whoring (at least for the next little while, when he still remembered what the hangovers felt like).

His options, he reckoned, were so: First, and most obvious, he could leave. The second he thought of this his chest tightened and he sighed. He'd been there a long time – too long – and he was starting to depend on these people more than he'd ever depended on a group before. Kaylee was the best mechanic, Zoe was the best gunwoman, zhuàng Simon was the best doc, Mal was the best, although the category he fit into jumped around a bit, and Wash— Jayne stopped and took a moment to send his typical, silent prayer to the almighty for takin' dead-Wash's name in vain or whatever.

A merc shouldn't come to rely on his crew for anything other than the completion of a job. Trust was a commodity that people like him couldn't afford. Maybe they could afford to trust him – he'd never let them down until Arial, and afterwards, he had dedicated himself to not letting them down that way again. If they were gonna get nabbed, it was going to be honestly, not because he was greedy. Still, this situation he'd found himself in...

His second option was to openly start courtin' River. This thought was followed by a series of internal video clips detailing all the ways in which Mal, Simon, Zoe, and Callie would kill him, and he discarded it almost immediately. He could actually feel his balls starting to shrivel a little at the thought, not that he'd tell anyone. Ever.

His third option was to secretly start courtin' River. This thought brought its own complications, the main one being that he didn't actually know if she wanted him or even liked him. He was teachin' her to shoot, sure enough, but that didn't mean nearly anythin'. An' come to think of it, he hadn't been teachin' her much a' nothin' the last couple weeks. He frowned a little at the image in his mind of her let down face and then groaned. He couldn't be near her without thinkin' inappropriate things that he had to force to the back of his mind so she couldn't read 'em. They weren't nice thoughts. And even if she did like him and allowed him to court her, there was always the danger of bein' found out.

He thought for hours before finally going with his last remaining option, which weren't nothin' more than a delay tactic, really. He made it his mission in life to avoid her like she had some sort of plague and ignore her whenever he had to spend time with her. He would no longer teach her how to shoot – someone else could take that over once he told Mal about it. He was gonna catch hell from damn near everyone, but he just couldn't take the way she smelled.

* * *

"You been _what?"_ demanded Mal, and Jayne sighed.

"Hell, Mal, there ain' been any harm to it, except to my ammo supply. She been less crazy ever since we started," he defended himself, as Callie walked into the cockpit, pulling up short at the argument she'd walked in on.

"Jayne, what in pĭn hóng péng sōng yīn cáo were you thinking even teaching her in the first place?" Mal asked loudly, and Cal glanced between them all, wondering what they were talking about.

"I was thinking if she could control it I wouldn't have to sleep with my eyes open anymore. The girl was a loose cannon, Mal, I just screwed on a couple bolts is all," snapped the mercenary, folding his arms. Mal was furious, and Calinthia, who had come in to tell him and his first mate that her brother was maybe not as dead as they all thought he was, spent half a second to rethink her timing.

"What's going on?" she asked instead, and Zoe looked at her.

"Not now, Calinthia," the first mate said, but kindly, and Cal nodded, turning and walking back out of the cockpit.

_You're not gonna tell them?_

_You wanna get in the middle of that?_

_Hmm, good point. What are they talking about, anyway?_

_Sounds like River._

Back in the cockpit, Mal was glaring at Jayne, who was not giving him a single inch of ground.

"Let me get this straight, then. For the last three and a half months you've been giving our unstable psychic assassin lessons in straight shooting so that you could sleep better at night?" the captain asked, his flat tone and his set jaw indicating that this was not a thought that gave him the giggles. Jayne rolled his eyes, setting his own jaw.

"You sure ain' worried about her stability when you take her out on jobs, there, Cap'n," he retorted, and Mal's eyes darkened.

"Jayne," he started, in a voice that indicated this storm was coming to a head. Jayne felt indignation well up within him.

"She's been stable since the Big Damn Mission, alright? Jus' cause she talks in circles don' mean she's crazy – she can' help that we're all dumber 'n her. An' she needs the shootin' lessons, Mal. What happens when she sees another o' them commercials? Girl's got a switch in her head she needs to be able to flip herself, 'stead o' some blue handed lab monkey thinks it's cute t' turn seventeen year old girls int' walkin', talkin' guns. You gonna jump in fron' a Kaylee next time she's triggered or d'you want River t' be able to stop herself?" Jayne exploded, feeling a rush of adrenaline pricking up the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck even as relief filled his chest where that weight had been.

Mal didn't say anything for the longest time, taking a deep breath in through his nose and letting it out again before rubbing his forehead and looking at Zoe, who gave a reluctant tilt of his head.

"Jayne has a point, sir," she told him. Mal blinked at her. She returned a look that said she was just as disturbed to say those words as he was to hear them. "River has seemed a lot calmer in the last few weeks. And there was that job with Dorgan," she added. Mal's face twitched. Zoe was still not pleased that she'd been told to sit on her ass while a seventeen year old girl went in her place, even with the precious cargo she was carrying. He looked back at Jayne, who was leaning back against the wall, arms folded, defensive.

"Fine. He has a point. My question is why is he comin' to me now with this, him having kept it a secret so well," he said, and Jayne shrugged, expression blank in a way that made Mal suspicious.

"Just don' see why it has to be my responsibility, is all. It's for the good of the crew – the crew should help out," he said. "An' by crew, I mean you an' Zoe. Ain' a one o' the others can shoot worth spit," he added. Mal sighed, but nodded.

"Fine. She's been using your guns up til now, she can keep doing that. We'll teach in shifts. And as long as we're doin' that, we might as well give the others a few lessons. Might just save their skins," he said. Jayne shrugged indifferently.

Outside the cockpit, River frowned, wading through the thoughts of the three people within, all twisted together in the tight space of her mind. Why was he doing this? Had she done something wrong? She examined the last few weeks in her mind and then slipped away from the cockpit door as she realized what he was doing. Her lips twisted into a frustrated frown and she made her way to the crew dormitories, slipping into his bunk as easily as if it were open. Her eyes travelled the room, seeing everything, registering little of it as her mind circled and searched for something she could take that he would miss and want returned.

The cot was cool against her back as she lay on it, burying her head into his flat pillow and breathing in the scent of him sleeping (_dreaming, dreaming, what is he dreaming_) and then blinking when something called her name. She leaned over the cot, looking under, and tilted her head at the bag behind the box. She could see it, and she grabbed it, and she looked inside (_rush of excitement tingling her skin, making everything tighter. Goosebumps_). Her smile was slow, but devious.

She was gone long before he returned, and he barely even noticed the lingering scent of cinnamon.


End file.
